The Miserables
by DiabloVixen
Summary: Brittany Pierce is sent to prison after taking the blame for stealing a loaf of bread and saving her best friend Santana Lopez from years behind bars. After getting released many years later she finds the world she left behind in shambles and the people she left behind long gone.. A Les Misérables inspired Fic .Brittana
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Feeling no Inspiration from Glee, instead got some watching the Oscar Worthy performances in Les Mes recently and then I got a Brittana story that I couldn't get rid of, read check it out and let me know if you like it/ want to see some more of it. **

Brittany watches the young Rondeau boys as they play around a stalled horse carriage. They duck under axels and between working men who do their best to dodge the children as they pack luggage and groceries into the back of the carriage.

She watches as they jump over the puddles of muddy water that line the road. Brittany cringes at their bravado, especially when they wear such elaborate coats of red satin and white lace.

She couldn't ever imagine wearing clothes as nice as that and she knows for sure she wouldn't likely go near a puddle and she sure wouldn't be jumping in them.

"It's ridiculous, isn't it?" Santana says as she slips in next to Brittany, she brushing her elbow gently against Brittany's as she always does in a sign of silent greeting before she crosses her arm. "Even one of those little bastards' outfits could feed both our families for weeks."

Brittany can only shrug in response. She doesn't really care to spend her energy hating the rich for the things they have even if they are the things she wants or needs.

She knows that sometimes certain people can't afford certain things and she really doesn't need the lace or the silk or the other fancy fabrics the wealthy and their children wear but part of her believes Santana is right. All that fabric would buy enough bread and meat to last both of their families into the next month if they rationed it all appropriately.

She eyes the food being placed on the back of the carriage she wonders if its meals for a long trip or just treats to bring to an already stockpiled home. This family has all the things she will never have. Food, comfort, fancy clothing and she can't help the little pang of jealous she feels in her chest.

The workers and the children step inside the large red doors and disappear with a loud clang. The noise that filled the square has gone and the carriage and its horses are left empty for the time being. Brittany's eyes turn to Santana before she looks back at the carriage and all the food that is just sitting there. She begins to wonder if the wealthy that live here are just as careless with their supplies as they are with their clothing.

Maybe they won't even notice if a loaf of bread has gone missing?

It feels like its too easy. It feels like God is testing them both and she really isn't sure what she's supposed to do. She feels her stomach grumble even at the thought of having more food and she realizes she can't remember the last time she had eaten a truly hearty meal.

Times had gotten tough ever since the government took everything away. Her mother did what she could to bring in money into the family and Brittany was doing her best to collect earnings doing odd jobs around the town.

She would do anything for anyone and accept almost anything in return, soap, rice, coins, socks and sometimes, as with old Mr. Thomas she didn't accept anything at all.

Santana has already stepped three strides closer towards the carriage before Brittany can thing anymore about it. She lunges forward to stop Santana in her tracks.

She wraps her fingers around the bone thin bicep and the light pressure is enough to stop Santana and bring her gaze up to Brittany's face.

"You can't." Brittany says. She knows what Santana is thinking. She's always know what Santana's thinking.

"Not the whole thing." Santana says. She can't take her eyes off the long loaf of bread poking its way out of the defenseless basket.

"What if someone sees?" Brittany says. Her brain is desperate to stop Santana but her stomach is desperate to taste that food.

Santana looks around the courtyard with a dramatic flourish of her eyes before pulls her arm from Brittany's light grasp and takes another step forward. "There's not a soul around."

Brittany plants her feet in protest and in fear and watches as Santana creeps, cat-like until she's next to the basket hanging on the back of the carriage.

She wraps her hand around the bread and pulls in into her arms just as the big red doors swing open with a loud crash, an eruption of noise escapes back into the courtyard like the lid of a jar had been removed and Santana is caught like a deer in headlights.

Food is too precious to abandon. Not when it's this close, not when you haven't held this much food in months and not when you can already feel its texture on your tongue.

Three men study Santana carefully before they bellow for the inspector and shout accusations of thievery. Santana doesn't wait to see if the Inspector can hear her calls. Santana takes off at a full sprint, she yanks Brittany's arm as she runs by and Brittany finds herself easily falling in pace with Santana. Her long legs have always made her faster.

Brittany has little hope that they can actually escape, she can hear the heavy footfalls behind them. They are so close she doesn't dare look over her shoulder. The police are right behind them, she can practically feel their breath on her neck.

Brittany swallows the lump in her throat just when she begins to lose her footing against the soft ground. It's Santana that grabs her and steadies her as she continues on in full stride. It takes Brittany a couple of more staggered strides before she's pulling back into motion.

She can't regain her form for long because Santana is yanking her down a narrow alleyway Santana pulls so forcefully so abruptly that Brittany feels herself stumbling again. She regains her balance on her own.

She can still hear the heavy footfalls and the labored panting of the inspectors hot on their heels as they weave their way around filth and trash that has accumulated between the houses.

They reach a familiar door and Brittany recognizes it as the storage closet for the local inn. It is filled with nothing but tools and old supplies and she knows what this means. It means that Santana has lead them down a deadend.

Santana looks back at Brittany and mutters an apology even though she doesn't need to. Brittany can already see the anguish in Santana's eyes. Brittany knows the punish meant for stealing, especially from someone of such high standing as Mr. Rondeau, is severe. They are both young but that hadn't stopped the courts from giving out decade long sentences before this.

Brittany looks back down the narrow alleyway and knows that she only had minutes to react. She doesn't know how far behind those inspectors were but she knows that there's still a chance that one of them could get away front this.

She jimmy rigs the lock to the storage room with a practiced ease. Santana and Brittany had spent so many days of their childhood tucked away with the tools and old machinery, hidden away from the teasing boys and the rumblings of their stomachs that she's pretty sure she still goes their in her dreams. But the shed isn't big enough for the both of them anymore.

Brittany yanks the loaf from Santana and shoves her inside the door, shutting it and locking it before Santana can react.

"They always return tools before dusk." Brittany calls over Santana's shouts. "You won't be locked in there for long."

"Brittany." Santana begs and it almost breaks Brittany's heart in two to hear the pain in Santana's voice.

"They treat people like you differently than people like me." Brittany lays her forehead against the door. She knows she's running out of time but she doesn't think she'll get to say anything she's been meaning to say. "And one of us needs to stay behind and take care of our families." She whispers through the door. Santana's protests have stopped and she knows that Santana is listening now and her silence means she's in agreement even if she wishes she wasn't.

"I'll come back." Brittany whispers through the door.

Brittany has heard about what its like to go to prison, she's heard stories about prisoners that die long before their sentence is over and she knows how empty that promise is. She knows she can't expect Santana to wait but she can't stop herself hoping that she still will.

"I'm sorry." Santana's says so quietly that Brittany isn't even sure she said it but then Santana repeats herself and she knows that its true.

"It's not your fault." Brittany says because it's true. She could blame the nobles for being so careless with their food. Tempting them with their riches and their delicacies. She could blame the government for abandoning the poor, she could blame the king, there are so many, much more important people to blame but she doesn't waste her breath because she's here right now and no amount of blaming and anger will take her away from it all.

"There you are." A callous voice calls through the end of the alley and Brittany turns on her heels, her palms press up defensively against the door and she almost feels like she can feel Santana's warmth there.

The man steps forward. Brittany feels like his height and his uniform should be intimidating but she feels herself standing taller and prouder in front of him.

The man lets out a huff of a laugh before he yanks Brittany hard by the arm, almost ripping it clean from its socket. Brittany swallows the yelp of pain that threatens to escape her lips.

"You're going to be gone for a long time." He says as he pulls Brittany away from the alley.

She glances back at the door before she beings to walk in step alongside Inspector Hudson.

"I love you." She whispers too quietly for anyone to hear and too late for it to even matter.


	2. Prologue Part II

**/* Author's Note: I made a mistake. With how I want to set it up... I want this to be part of the Prologue too so I'm going to have to update it with a short little dinky chapter but they should get longer soon and more meaty in a little bit. /* **

- Nine Years Later -

Even after almost of decade her muscles still scream at her to stop even if her mind knows that the punishment for stopping is worse than the agony of continuing. Her muscles tear and her bones crack in protest as she heaves another pile of lumber over her shoulders but she still moves on and pushes forward. Still after weeks, after years she carries more loads then anyone else in the prison camp.

She's become the governments pack mule.

But it's the thought of home that keeps her moving each and every grinding step. Soon she'll be home, and these days will be nothing but a painful memory.

She keeps her eyes trained on her goal not daring to look up the path towards the lanky guard that she can feel watching her. She can't find it in herself to believe that its just a coincidence of fate that brought Inspector Finn Hudson to the prison a few years into her sentence and she can't find it mere coincidence that he seems to follow her every move. She can feel the way his eyes bore into her from under his cap and she knows he's probably twisting the baton that rests at his hip between his fingers. She knows his just biting his time, waiting for her to make a mistake so he can jump at the chance to strike her.

He isn't going to get a chance today.

She's learned, over the years, to never step out of line because even when you're completely innocent, even if you're just defending yourself, the soldiers will look for ways to punish you, because they can. Even those that had started as kind and understand have turned cruel and spiteful along with their brethren. Brittany also knows that those that give the soldiers the hardest time and those that she's heard screaming all through the night. It happens so often that Brittany has almost gotten used to the sounds.

Her instincts are still to reach out to the broken women when she sees them the next morning. Her instincts are to offer them assistance and her share of their morning rations but she learned early that help is the last thing any of them want. Brittany senses a mixture of pride and shame in them and she can never really find it in herself to understand where that comes from. It's the soldiers that did that to them, it's the government that send them her and its their laws and regulations that keep them tied to this place. But she doesn't bother telling the women that anymore as they lower their head to hide their bruised cheeks and split lips Brittany carries an extra piece of lumber here and there to lighten their load even a little bit.

Her initial sentence of five years already felt like a lifetime to her sixteen year old self but now its really starting to feel like she's going to be here forever. Every time the guards would hand her thick rolls of parchments with wide smirks she knew the news wouldn't be good. And it never was.

A couple of months here and a year there and all of a sudden her sentence had almost doubled just because of minor infractions or law changes or additional rulings for things she didn't really understand.

She wrote to Santana every day begging for help. Santana was always smarter than she was, she knew all the answers and read the complicated books that Brittany never understood. She knew she could tell her what to do, she knew that Santana would save her from this place.

But Santana never did.

Brittany couldn't blame her. Santana had moved on. She couldn't have expected her to wait for her for so long. Santana was free and she had her entire life ahead of her. But she still felt a sense of emptiness knowing that Santana had given up on her. But she still had to get out. Brittany still had to get back to her. Brittany still had to get back to her family.

Brittany sets down her last piece of lumber before the warning bell begins to ring. Obediently all work around the site stops and Brittany turns just as Inspector Hudson makes his way towards the setting sun behind him casts an eerily long shadow in front of him.

Brittany's eyes instantly fall to the parchment he holds in his hand. Brittany begins to wonder if anyone at home remembers her at all. Its not like it really matters anymore, she'll never get home anyway.

Brittany's eyes finally brave the slow drift up to Hudson's face and she realizes something is different.

His smirk is replaced by an obvious frown and she isn't sure what to make of it. He steps in front of her and her body becomes rigid in her natural suppression of her fight and flight instincts. It was always easier to take the beatings then to take the punishment for trying to run or defend yourself. Brittany saw what the did to the other girls who tried to fight back.

Hudson locks eyes with her until she drops her glaze onto the floor, only then does he shove the thin parchment into her hands.

Brittany reads it over carefully but the words seem all scrambled and complicated and she doesn't really know what it's supposed to mean.

But then she sees the single most important word of her life. And a date next to it.

Today?

"Do you know what that means?" Hudson snarls so furiously that Brittany has to wipe the spit from her face.

"I'm free." Brittany rereads the word _released_ over and over again afraid that it might disappear if she doesn't engrave it into her memory.

A smirk crosses over Hudson's lips and he shoves a different parchment into Brittany's hands, this one is much thicker than the first and she doesn't know why but she tries to read this one too but the words make no sense.

She really wishes she had Santana.

"No." His clean fingers point to the top of the paper where _Parole _is written in delicate cursive. "You'll show these papers for the rest of your life."

"I didn't-" Brittany begins.

"You stole." Finn interjects.

Brittany frowns as she looks at him. "We were starving."

"You stole." Finn snarls again. He points over his shoulder to the falling sun over the horizon gesturing Brittany to some unseen destination over the horizon.

Brittany begins to walk with nothing left of herself but the ragged prison clothes and the clothing she came with, now many sizes too small for her to wear. She feels the wind on her skin for the first time as a free woman she takes her first breathe of free air. Then she remembers the piece of paper that will be chained to her for the rest of her life. Making sure she never really feels free.

Making sure she always remembers nine years of her life that was wasted.

She folds up the paper and stashes it into her pocket and continues her trek. It's been a long time since she's left these compounds and an even longer time since she's been home but her feet know the direction long before her body knows to go west with the falling sun. The sun will lead her home to her parents and home to Santana.

She knows she isn't the same person that left but she prays that it won't matter that the guards took her golden locks and that the hard labor left her muscles tight and rigid.

She can only pray that they recognize the person she's become.


	3. On Parole The Bishop

She can't even feel the cold anymore. It's like the years at the prison have prepared her for this and sheer will and determination have her moving forward past the hunger and the snow and the ice shards that dig into her feet. If she could get through the nine years in prison, she can make it through the last few weeks as she makes her way back home.

She makes her ways past towns begging for whatever she can find and checking with the parole officers on her journey. She tries to pick up odd jobs from farmers and strangers but the minute they see her papers they eye her strangely before rolling the parchment back up and asking her to move along. A straight shot would have gotten her back a couple of weeks sooner but she zig-zags from town to town as the officers order her forward. She lives mostly off the food she manages to beg and is sad to realize that those that offer her assistance aren't much better off than she is. But the grumbling in her stomach keeps her from refusing food from people that seem more in need than she is.

It's the soldiers that remind her of where she's come from and where she belongs. It's the rich that scoff at her condition and gesture towards her blackened feet with a snicker or a twist of the nose. It's the managers and foreman that take one look at her papers and send her on her way. Even after they eye her biceps and stature with interest.

No one will allow a criminal to work for them. No one will submit to allowing a female to do a man's work. Hard labor is man's work some of them say to cover up the distrust she sees brewing in their eyes once they eye the paper work she's forced to carry.

She stops trying when she's another week outside of her hometown. She'll beg or scavenge some leftovers from the rich and overfed before she makes it home and she assumes that will suffice. She falls asleep in the bitter cold stationed up against the large doors of a church for no particular reason besides the fact that it's ornate threshold provides adequate shelter from the falling snow.

She finally finds herself drifting away when she feels a soft kick against her thighs. Her eyes shoot open and she's on her feet before she can make note of the offending body. An aged preacher stands next to her. He watches her with caring eyes and holds up an aged pair of keys and gestures to the door Brittany still blocks from his view. She sidesteps him as she leans down to collect her belongings and begins to make her way down the stairs and try to find another place to rest until dawn.

"Come in. my child." The preacher calls to her before Brittany can disappear.

Brittany glances back to the orange candlelight that flickers through the door and casts a strange long shadow along the freshly fallen snow.

Brittany hesitates, she looks over her shoulder to the consuming darkness to which she was headed and back towards the preacher. She wasn't much of a religious person growing up. It was Santana that dragged her to church every Sunday and it was Santana that prayed before meals and before bedtime. Brittany was more content to watch the way Santana's hair shielded her when she leaned her forehead against her interlocked fingers and the way her lips whispered the hints of her prayer.

Brittany couldn't find it in herself to pray.

Brittany never really understood where God was when her entire family was starving and her neighbors were dying. And now she looks at this man who offers her a shelter and she sees the face of God in him and she isn't sure what to make of it. If God is finally watching over her, will he be able to see the horrors in her heart. Will he know the horrible things she had down to survive and the horrible things she will do to keep herself and her family alive once she makes it back to them.

The man doesn't seem fazed by this. He steps aside to allow Brittany entrance and she doesn't hesitate again. Instead she steps into the orange light.

The ornate wooden door and the stained glass windows do nothing to truly define the beauty of this church. There are precious metals everywhere, gold and silver and jewels lined even the most useless of artifacts. Even the candlesticks are encased in solid gold with tiny rubies lining the base. Brittany runs her rough fingers along the stones and all she can think of is how many mouths this would feed back home.

The preacher clears his throat and Brittany feels like she's caught when she hasn't even done anything wrong yet. She whips around to face him and she finds him studying her carefully. He gestures for her to follow and she does.

He leads her behind the alter to a small bed tucked between two wooden panels.

"It isn't much." He apologizes and Brittany isn't sure why. She would have been content to sleep across one of the hard wooden pews.

He watches her carefully and she works her hands over the soft mattress. The beds at the prison where mats on stone, the last time she slept on a bed was back at home and it was next to Santana in the bed they shared with her sister. She runs her fingers over the fabric once more and it feels soft, just like the one at home and she feels like she can almost smell Santana as she lays her head against the plush pillow.

She glances up to see a smile cross the preachers face. "Good night child." He whispers before he disappears back into the church.

Brittany falls asleep dreaming of home, of Santana's homemade lavender soap and of prayer.

The early morning sun shines through the stained glass and lights up her bed in a rainbow of colors. She shields her eyes from the offending sun and gathers her backpack together as she readies to head back out into the cold and gather the strength to finish the last leg of her journey.

The church is empty and quiet as she makes her way towards the entrance.

Then the sun glints against the rubies of the candlesticks.

She can't help herself from thinking of the hungry mouths this could feed and of all the cheaper things that could hold up a couple of silly wax candles. She thinks of her sister's mouth, her parents, Santana, and her family. They could ration it and she knows it would feed them for a long time. Her hand reaches for it out of greed and her new found survival instinct. These candlesticks are valuable and unguarded and she knows that she can't let such an opportunity slip past. Her fingers run over the rubies one more time before she reaches her hand away like it had been burned.

"When was the last time you ate a hearty meal?" The preacher asks and Brittany jumps back and feels caught for a second time.

She just stares at him too afraid to answer and incriminate herself further. This man wouldn't have to say very much to get her send back to prison. And she's sure this candlestick will hold a much further sentence than the loaf of bread.

"Take it." He offers.

Brittany whips her head back around as he repeats himself once more and gestures towards the candlestick next to her.

This must be some sort of trick. She knows it must be but she can't seem to figure out where the secret could be.

He grabs the candlestick off the table and shoves it in her hand.

"Take it." He commands.

Brittany is too dumbfounded to react. She just stares at him and begs that he has the forethought to take the solid gold stick from her hands.

But he never does and Brittany feels herself standing at the threshold of the church with the stupid thing in her hand.

"Take it." He commands with a little more force this time. "You can do better with it than I could ever do. Take it and make a different. Take it!"

He practically pushes her out the door and only then does Brittany find her step again. She takes off at a full sprint, half expecting the soldiers to come following her at any minute.

But they never do.

She stuffs the candlestick into her bag and keeps it there for the rest of her journey.

The sun is about midway across the sky by the time she reaches her town. She steps into the first row of dirt roads and walks down towards the place she used to call home. It all seems odd how much has stayed the same in the years she was gone. Well maybe the roads somehow seem dirtier and the houses seem more weather worn and she doesn't recognize the faces that look back at her anymore.

She doesn't see the young boy who lived down the street from her. She would always find him playing with rocks in the mud or dirt. She wonders if he managed to escape the slums or if disease got him first.

It's probably the latter.

She walks slowly and careful like she will scare Santana away when she finally catches sight of her. Well maybe there's a chance that it could happen, it's been a long time and Brittany looks nothing like the person who left.

She doesn't feel like that person either.

She turns down the little alleyway that leads towards the house they shared with the Lopez family and stops dead in her tracks.

The windows are blown out and blackened from fire. The edges of the building are gutted and charred. Pieces of red and black flags hang from the side of the window. Brittany doesn't know what to take of the sight. Something horrible happened here. She knows at least that much. She feels her legs start to give on the spot and some one reaches out for her arm before she collapses face first into the mud.

"Such a shame it was." Someone mutters as Brittany attempts to steady her feet. She looks over her should to see an aged man behind her. He's taking in the charred building.

"What happened here?" Brittany keeps his eyes trailed on his face toe afraid of what will happened if she looks back at her destroyed home.

"Rebellion." The man says like it should answer everything. He looks back at her and speaks again when he realizes it doesn't. "The family was playing refugee to the rebellion. Story is that they were assembling bombs when a faulty one exploded."

Brittany chances a glance back at the building. She imagines her family inside. She imagines her parents and Santana and then all she can think about is the pieces of them as the blast ripped apart their bodies. She feels her stomach lurch and she turns back to the old man with the hope that he has better news.

"Did anyone survive?" Brittany says.

The man raises an eyebrow at her and trails his eyes back to the house. "Do you think the government would have let them?"

"What does that mean?" Brittany says even though she knows.

"No." He says shortly as he begins to take off towards the road leading back to the center of town. "No one survived the _blast _or what probably came afterward."

Brittany grabs his arm before he can get too far. "Please sir." She can feel the tears in her eyes and she knows by the way his face softens that he can see them. "There was a family living here. Two actually…"

"The Lopez and the Pierce family." The man says knowingly.

For some reason that fills Brittany with a glimmer of hope. "Did they move out? Where they there when the blast happened?"

The old man nods and Brittany feels like she's going to be sick.

"Brittany?" The man says. Brittany looks up and she can feel him stepping closer and looking deep into her eyes. "Brittany Pierce? It's you in there isn't it?"

Brittany nods slowly.

"Your eyes." He brings his hand to Brittany's face to steady them. "They lost their hue."

He must notice the confusion in her face again.

"They used to be so blue." The man says. He drops his hands slowly but still keeps Brittany's face framed in his view. "The sky on a sunny day." He lowers his hands to the side. "But I guess neither shine as brightly anymore. Not after everything that's happened." He lowers his head to study the dirt.

"I'm sorry." Brittany shifted back a little to get a better view of the man. "But it's been a long time and I-"

"Of course!" The man says suddenly perky. "I was the driver for Mr. Rondeau. The man you stole the bread from."

Brittany lowers her eyes to the dirt again. Mainly from the memory of Santana and all the things she wished she sould have just said if she knew it would be her last memory of her.

"Actually…" The old man looks back towards the road and then turns his head towards the charred building. His hobbles forward until Brittany's pretty sure he plans to enter the building.

She steps forward to stop him, reaching for his arm. "I don't think-"

"I'm not going in." The old man stops her before she can speak. "I just need to grab something Mr. Rondeau left for you. He always knew you'd be back even when everyone else seemed to lose hope."

Brittany watches as the hold man rummages along the burned furniture just inside the blown out window.

"You were the main cause of all this actually." He glances over his shoulder and Brittany feels her face fall.

"Not this." The man corrects quickly. "Of course." He looks up over his shoulder to the tattered flags that hand outside the window. "But of that." He turns back to rummaging for something in the remains of the building. "You were very popular around here Brittany. I don't think you ever really knew how much your brightness and your smile was missed around here. Of course someone of us felt it more than others." He paused for a moment and Brittany wonders for a second if he's thinking of Santana. At least her mother had her sister to keep her company and to keep her hopeful.

But now they were all gone.

"Aha." The man lifts a dirty fabric pouch from the wreckage and holds it out to Brittany. It looks heavy with something inside it and Brittany's afraid to take the offering. There has got to be some kind of trick, Brittany just hasn't figured it out yet.

"Mr. Rondeau left it for you." The man adds as he brings the fabric closer. "Well." The man shakes his head. "The entire town left what they could but we all couldn't spare very much. Mr. Rondeau left most of it."

He pulls her hand up by the wrist and drops the loaded fabric into her outstretched palm.

Brittany stares at it for a moment before she can think of anything to say. "I don't understand."

"You were loved around here, Ms. Brittany Pierce." The man says as he turns his head to leave. "You were a light in this dark place and they shouldn't have ever taken you away from here."

Brittany watches the old man as he makes his way down the alley.

"What am I supposed to do with all this?" She calls to him.

Brittany can see his head turn to look at her but he doesn't say anything else. His lips lift into a smile before he shakes his head and continues down the alley.

Brittany feels the weight of the money in her hand again and she realizes that she probably hasn't held or seen this much money in her entire life.

Then she thinks about how she would trade every cent of it to get her family and Santana back. Money never really meant much to her anyway.


	4. Brittany's Soliloquy

Five Years Later

* * *

She adjusts her tie in the full-length mirror that rests against the side of her desk. Its one of those quiet moments in the factory before the whistle sounds and the ladies that assemble the clothes and sew the buttons get to their stations. Brittany's thankful for these few moments she gets alone, she can let her flowing blonde hair fall against her back for just a few precious seconds at least before she stuffs it back underneath her signature tattered brown cap.

She hates it. She hates the cap, she hates how hot her head gets with all that hair piled underneath it but most of all she hates that fact that she has to hide herself.

_What would Santana say if she saw this?_

But Brittany doesn't have a choice. The businessmen wouldn't have done a deal with her if they knew she had gone to jail and she wouldn't be able to run this factory if they knew she was really a woman.

The businessmen, in their fancy overpriced suits pretty much drooled at the sight of the satchel of coins that Brittany showed them. Her still growing hair helped the situation and if any of the men had any suspicions, they were too greedy to verbalize anything. It didn't matter that they knew nothing of her story. It didn't matter where she came from or how she got all this money. It just mattered that she had the money and she wanted to buy this rundown warehouse in the middle of a rundown town.

They laughed at her actually.

But Brittany knew she could do it. She knew she had to do it. With so much money already invested in the building and all the starving people she saw on the streets, she knew she couldn't let this factory fail, she couldn't let all that hard earned money go to waste. She was going to help these people the best way she knew how, by letting them help themselves.

It started off slow. Brittany found a couple of women in the poorest parts of town and offered them a job. Their eyes lit up when Brittany told them the pay and she really didn't have to do much (or anything at all) to convince them to say yes. A few weeks later and the women were chugging out clothes at an astounding rate. Brittany had never seen people work as hard as those two women but they were happy to be employed and they were thankful for the work and they repaid Brittany back tenfold.

Slowly but surely the factory gained traction and Brittany was able to employ more and more women and sell more and more clothes. The town was beginning to really prosper and the slums were starting to look less and less dire everyday.

But Brittany knew her work was never done.

She had to keep the cruel soldiers at bay, she had to keep the town moving and she had to keep her true identity hidden, if she was discovered she would go back to jail, the lawmakers don't take too kindly to convicts that skip out on parole, and the factory would be left in ruin. She couldn't let that happen. She owed it to the people of this town. They need her, she can't stop and she can't run anymore.

Sometimes she wonders if she's really doing the right thing or is she just being greedy?

She can't help but wonder what her family would think of all this, what would Santana think of her masquerading around as a man just to get what she wanted.

There's a knock at the door and Brittany brings the cap over her head and checks the mirror to tuck under any stray blonde hairs.

"Monsieur?" A voice calls through.

"Just a second, David." Brittany calls back before she tucks under the last straggling pieces.

She pulls the door open to find the grinning face of David greeting her. David has become her second in command of sorts around the factory. As the supply and the number of employees grew larger Brittany found herself spending more time making deals and visiting neighboring towns to secure more clients then she did around the factory. She needed someone to run the floor of the factory. She needed someone to work closely with the girls. It had been her favorite part and she was reluctant to give it up but she had to do what was right for the factory even if it meant spending days in a musty old carriage on her way to meet with the wealthiest fabric owner this side of France.

David steps into her office without even waiting for an invitation. Brittany closes the door behind him.

"Good morning." Brittany says.

"Good morning." David says as an afterthought. He flips through a paper in his hand. "Some of the new girls are coming in this morning."

"Women." Brittany corrected.

David looked up to give Brittany a sly smile. "Yes, women." He looked back down at his list. "Did you want to give the new _women_ a tour?"

Brittany let out a sigh. "I have a couple of meetings in town today." She said. "You can handle this one right?"

David smiled widely. "Of course, Did you have any particular job for these new comers?"

"No." She threw her tattered jacket over her shoulders. "Just spread them out evenly."

A smirk crossed David's face. "Will do." He called as Brittany pushed her way out the door.

Sometimes she wondered if she really was doing the right thing. It all blew up into too much for her, she wasn't a businessman, she wasn't a factory owner. What if she was getting too far over her head or what if she was just building these people up to let them down again? What if they got used to the comfortable life style, the warm beds and the full stomachs and then they were just thrown back into the cold again when Brittany let them all down. Wouldn't they be worse off in the end?

Part of her feels selfish for continuing this game because she knows, at least partially, that she keeps the factory around to distract her from her empty apartment and her long lonely nights.

At least this factory gives herself something to wake up for.

**/*Author's Note: I was a little bit lost of the use for a Solilquy but I didn't really feel like talking to herself was that necessary here. Anyway its a short chapter I know but the longer more important stuff is happening next chapter I promise :). Thanks to all that read, review and comment!*/**


	5. At the End Of The Day

The bitter wind rips through the tattered fabric that covers her shoulders. She clings at the fabric in a failed attempt to shield her body from the cold. She can feel the shivers run through her body. She hopes she can hide them underneath her clothes for long enough. No one can see her shiver they might see her as weak, they might not want to hire her but she needs this job too badly to let this opportunity pass her by.

She needs money. She desperately needs the money and she's run out of options. She's travelled so far and given up so much just to get here but people speak so highly of this town and this factory. They speak so highly of the quirky owner and his signature cap. She just had to take a chance. This job could mean everything. It could mean a chance for her and her daughter to really have a life together. It's what she always promised. It's what she always dreamed for, it's what keeps her going. She has nothing else left but her daughter and she needs to be with her. She needs her back.

"If you could only see me now." She says harshly. She looks up into the blinding sun where she knows she's probably watching her. She never heard any news of Brittany since she was shipped off to the prison so many years ago but she never forgot about her. She knows deep down that if Brittany was alive and free she would have found her way back to Santana, she knows it just as much as she knows that if Brittany hasn't found her that it can only mean one thing.

The realization hit her with a twinge of sadness. It always does, even to this very day. She wished her daughter could have met Brittany. Santana likes to think that she would have liked Brittany. Then again who didn't like Brittany?

"Santana Lopez."

Santana is pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her name.

She looks up at the stout man that stands at the front door of the factory. He's a large man, not in a tall intimidating way but in a well-fed way. He's obviously a man with enough money to feed himself well while the rest of the town is on the brink of starvation. She doesn't let herself think too much of it. So many people speak so well of this factory, how bad could he possibly be?

"Well we don't got all day." The man barks and Santana bows her head towards him before she ducks inside the large factory doors.

The factory has billowing ceilings and large windows positioned near the ceiling. Santana still has to hug the fabric around her shoulders but part of her hopes it warms up when the doors closes. There are rows of tables full with piles of fabric and tools. Women work meticulously at their stations on the table. Some of them dare to sneak peaks at Santana and the other women. Santana falls in line among the against the wall.

A couple more woman step through the door and fall in line behind Santana until the stout man comes back inside the factory, shutting the door behind him and leaving behind a crowd of disappointed woman in his wake. They'll be back next month when the factory opens up more positions. Santana knows they always come back. She's heard about the squatters that just wait until a job opens up, they just hope and pray something works their way. Some have been here for years. She can see the desperation in their eyes.

A few minutes later the stout man pushes through the door and stands in front of them. He doesn't say a word as he points to a woman and then points to an empty station. Gesturing for her to stand in line next to the other workers. The women practically run to their positions behind the table without hesitation.

_He must be the foreman._ Santana thinks as he makes he way up the rest of the line and assigns the new woman to their positions amongst the rest of the workers. Santana sees his boots stop in front of her and she looks up to see the smirk in his eyes.

She looks back down at his feet and waits for some direction. She just hopes he does his job instead of taking advantage of her in the way she can see he wants to. She can't let that happen. She's already suffering the consequences of the abuse of a powerful man, she won't let it happen again.

But she has to think of her daughter.

She can see the lust in his face and part of her knows its only a matter of time before his desires get the better of him. It's only a matter of time before he takes what he wants.

She feels a strong hand wrap around her thin bicep and she hopes he can't feel the way she quivers beneath his touch. She prays for God to get the better of him. She prays for God to protect her for his leering. She prays that no one she loves is watching her unravel from fear of a simple touch.

Sometimes she wonders why she bothers to pray at all.

Why would He bother to listen to the prayers of a lonely little woman?

He pulls her towards the back of that factory to where the last rows of workers sit. She knows that he's only doing this because he can. He's stronger than her. He's more powerful than she'll ever be, she's at his disposal and everybody knows it, even the workers who keep their eyes trained on the work in front of them. If he wanted Santana he could take her and there's nothing she could do to stop it.

And that terrifies her in more ways than one.

She does everything to avoid the foreman's eyes, she keeps her eyes trained on the mess of fabric and thread in front of her. She grabs the first piece her hand falls on and starts to work even if she isn't exactly sure what she's supposed to do. The woman next to her elbows her gently and she watches as the woman slowly sows a button to the front of what looks like a soldiers jacket. Santana grabs a jacket from the pile and begins the mimic the movements of the woman next to her. She manages to follow the woman in sowing several more buttons before the foreman finally leaves her alone as he begins to parole the rest of the rows of workers.

She watches his back as he makes his way down the neighboring row. She can also see how the other women immediately stiffen at his presence. She wonders how many other women had to succumb to him just to support their starving family. She wonders how many of these women he has taken advantage of. She knows it doesn't matter.

In a way, they want men like this just as much as the men want them. They need their money and their power to stay alive.

Part of her knows she could just give in to all of their desires. She could just let them do what they wanted and charge a hefty fee for it all. But just the thought of it makes her sick. Doing that is like breaking an unspoken promise. A promise that she has already broken.

Of course she'll never say she regrets it completely. Her daughter is the best thing to ever happen to her.

But she won't let it happen again.

Never again.

She clutches at the paper in her pocket. The letter the Inn Keeper's wife sent her way demanding more money for doctor bills. Her daughter's sick and she's desperate for money.

She has to take care of her daughter now. She promised she'd come back for her, and she'll do whatever it takes.

But she still can't bring herself to think about doing…that.

It must be several hours later when Santana feels her hand cramping up. She can see the now orange sky pouring in through the factory windows. It must be close to dusk when Santana drops her work to loosen the stiffness in her hands.

She can feel the eyes of the other workers drift to hers. She can see a sense of panic in their glances as their eyes move from her to the foreman as if they're trying to warn her of something. She looks to the worker sitting on her right as she makes the same warning glances as the others.

It's too late for Santana to realize what they were warning her about. The foreman is descending on her before she attempt to return to her work.

"Too lazy to finish a work day?" The foreman snarls. The entire factory seems to jump in fright.

His rough hands snatch at hers and wrap around her wrist.

"They were just sore sir." She responds but instantly regrets when she feels his fingers tighten painfully around her wrists.

"Sore?" He asks.

He seems to be waiting for a response but Santana's too afraid to give a response.

"Sore?" He repeats louder this time. Santana nods her head only to appease him.

"We're all sore and tired and wanting to take breaks but we have deadlines and work to complete or we're all out of a job." He said. "You don't want to be the reason all these other lovely ladies are back starving on the street. Do you?"

Santana swallows down the spit that's lodged in her throat. She's too terrified to move. She only can manage a yelp of pain as the grip around her wrist tightens even more.

Then the factory doors pull open and Santana is released so suddenly that she almost falls on her back. The foreman whips around to meet the figure that enters.

The man is everything the foreman isn't, tall and slender, he walks with a solid yet calm gait and he wears a tattered brown cap that covers his entire head until the brim falls just above his eyes so the shadows seal his eyes from view. But Santana doesn't have to look him in the eyes to know who the man in the camp must be. It's the factory owner.

"Monsieur." The foreman says with a small bow. He turns away from Santana, his large body blocking the owner from view. She wonders if his actions are intentional.

Santana can't see the owner any more, she can only hear his voice.

"I only had a few meetings today." He says.

She feels herself instantly comforted by his kind voice.

"It's nice to be back at the factory for once." He adds.

She can see the back of the foreman's head bounce as he nods in agreement.

She can hear the slender man's steps as he makes he's way closer to the foreman. "How have the new employees fared today? I was hoping to get back before the end of the day so I can meet the newest ones."

Santana tried to look over the foreman's shoulder. She can't wait to meet this man. She's already heard so much about him and his factory, he's the closest thing they have to a celebrity in this small town.

A shrill whistle sounds through the factory and the every woman in the factory stands and makes their way for the factory exit.

"Oh." Santana can still hear the factory owner's disappointed voice even over the voices that have filled the room. "Maybe tomorrow instead." Women begin to file out of the large double doors and into the streets. "I'll be in my office." He adds.

Santana turns to watch the back of the owner as he disappears up a narrow set of stairs.

The foreman marches towards the exit, ignoring Santana and hopefully forgetting about their litter interaction. Santana follows the rest of the women out into the brisk, darkening night. She clutches the tattered pieces of paper from her pocket and follows the rest of the women out into the night.


End file.
